Page 11 of Property of Necro
Necro steps to the side to give Rot space to wash and dry his hands. Then it’s just us in the bathroom, loiteringlike a bunch of fuckin’ weirdos. One of us bein’ naked makes it ten times worse.
I point to Rot. “Put some clothes on.”
Rolling his eyes, he grabs his nutsack and tugs. “No. This is my bathroom, dickhead.”
“It’sourbathroom,” I correct. He has a bedroom on one side, and I have mine on the other. It’s a Jack-and-Jill setup.
“Yeah. Fine. But I can be naked in my bathroom. Don’t act like you haven’t seen my Jolly Johnson a million fuckin’ times.” Waggling his brows like a lunatic, he helicopters his dick.
Groaning, I drag a hand down my face, wanting this to end. Put me out of my misery.
“You’re just on your period. You want some Midol?” Rot tacks on.
“Rot,” I growl, clenching my fists down at my sides, ready to punch him in the mouth. He knows how to rile me up, and it never ends well for either of us.
“What?” He shrugs, eyeing my balled-up knuckles. “You’re always like this after you nut in a pussy. You didn’t have to fuck her.”
“Shut up.” That’s beside the point. Why I get mad when I get off is none of his fuckin’ business.
“No.” Rot puffs up his thick chest. “You’re not ruinin’ this for me. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not next week. You’re gonna be nice and let me face-fuck the sexy redhead whenever I please. You don’t have to touch her. Now, if you’re both in here doin’ what I think you’re doin’, get the hell out and do it somewhere else. Or, maybe, be nice for once and come out here and talk to her.”
Necro shakes his head as if he wants nothing of the sort. That makes two of us. I’m not talking to her. I don’t want to know her. I don’t want to see her, smell her, and I definitely don’t wanna hear her goddamn voice.
Rot knows the rules.
She’s already breaking them.
I give her a week.
Then she’s gone.
And we won’t be doing this again.
I’m too old for this shit.
I’ll get my dick wet when I’m on a run. It’s easier to duct tape a random bitch’s mouth shut and make her bleed when I don’t have to look at her the next day or answer the age-old question of, “What the hell is wrong with you, Coffin?”
Nothin’s wrong with me. Got it?
I like what I like.
And I don’t like the redhead.
Now fuck off.
Chapter
Six
They’re arguingin the bathroom. Whether they know I can hear them or not, Rot’s voice carries.
He wants them to come talk to me, but something tells me, whoever these men are, they’re not about to warm up anytime soon. Not yet, anyhow. I have ways to change that. It’ll just take some time. This arrangement might be the first I’ve dealt with of this kind. But men wanting to use my body yet caring nothing about the person inside the bag of flesh, yeah, I know that all too well.
I’ve been used and discarded my whole life.
I’m the unwanted byproduct of a one-night stand. My mother didn’t even know she was pregnant until she was in her third trimester. By then, it was too late to kick her habits, and I was born a drug-addicted baby to an addict who couldn’t even hear me when I screamed. Not that she cared.
I don’t have a single fond memory of her.
